


Spring

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:07:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaila takes in Chekov for his shore leave, ready to leave that shore herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for morganste’s “Gaila surviving” prompt on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

She practically jumps over the couch when she hears the doorbell chime, racing across her apartment and taking care not to trip over all the spilled clothes. Her closet’s leaked all over the floor, but she’s had so many better things to do than clean up, and now she has something much, _much_ better.

Gaila jams the lock with one eager finger, and the door slides open with appropriate haste. Pavel still has his own hand on the other sides’ panel, his eyes going wide at the sight of her. She grins wide, chirps, “Pavel!” and throws her arms around him. She crushes him right against her—he’s thicker than she remembers, stronger, with biceps as big as hers but a waist still slimmer, and she fists a hand in his curly hair to tug him over her shoulder. He smells like _starship_ and a crisp, freshly pressed uniform. 

As soon as she lets go, he flushes bright pink, looking down at her to realize that she’s just in lingerie. It’s not the set she picked—she was going through them, wanting _just the right thing_ for his homecoming, but he’s sooner than expected and she had to dart over in what she had on. It’s Earth-style—she’s tried a few times to be vaguely Russian but it really all looks the same to her—blue, with black lace and a bow in the middle of her bra. She’s hardly surprised when he grabs her shoulders and hurriedly ushers her inside—like most humans, he’s silly with ‘modesty.’

She doesn’t care, is just happy to have him, and she laughs to herself whilst sighing, “I’m glad to have you back.” A quick peck to his warm cheek, and she tugs him to the couch by his hand. When she pushes him down onto it, his knees collapse—they’re always weak for her. His bag rests on the cushion beside him, still strapped around his shoulder. She climbs right into his lap, tosses her vivid hair over her shoulder, wraps her arms around him and asks, “How’s the Enterprise?”

A look comes over Pavel’s face like he couldn’t possibly tell her all in one go. Of course not—Kirk always finds trouble, one way or another. He shakes his head, mutters something out of Federation Standard, and then says instead, “You look better. You look wonderful.”

She answers, “Thank you,” smiling, while he puts his hands on her hips. He always sounds so _sincere_ when he compliments her, and he looks at her with big, bright eyes, like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He’s cute, but his eagerness makes him cuter. 

He asks, “You are feeling good then, yes? You hawe recowered?” His accent warps the words, but she’s learned to listen hard to him and understands. Then his eyebrows knit together, and he mumbles, “I am still sorry for leawing.”

Gaila clicks her tongue and waves a hand, dismissing that in a heartbeat. She likes to have a man to play with, but she hardly needs one around, and besides, she likes his career. She insists, “I understand your love of space; I love it too! And I think I’m ready to go back out there.” He smiles at that, and she can see that it’s because he’s genuinely _happy_ for her. She ducks to rub her nose against his before she slips her hand along his cheek and purrs, “Which means I could use a good word put in for me on the best ship in the fleet, by the way...”

If possible, Pavel blushes even harder. He splutters, “I am only an ensign.”

“On the bridge,” she giggles, “And I know James; he likes me anyway. Besides, don’t you want to be on a ship with me?” She could use her allure here, because she’s Orion with pheromones to kill, but she doesn’t have to. 

He promises, “I will try.” He will, though she’ll probably get there anyway. They’ll be in different departments, but maybe they can align their shifts, and she can fuck him at warp speed like she’s always wanted. She rewards him with a kiss, lingering and soft, the sort that makes him slide his hands up her waist while she tilts to deepen it. 

When she pulls their mouths apart, he’s breathing hard and leaning forward for her, and she splays her hand along his taut chest to purr, “Good. I miss space, and I missed my favourite man.” The next kiss is so hard it grinds him into the couch, her tongue thrusting in to _claim_ his. She traces his teeth and sucks his bottom lips and rolls her hips against his when his bulging crotch bucks into her. 

But when she lets him go for air, his eyes are wide, albeit hazy, and he asks brightly, reverent, “Really? I am your favourite?”

She pauses as though thinking, grins wide and elaborates, “In this moment?”

He wrinkles his nose, so she kisses it, laughing.

Then she drags him up by the hand and tugs him towards the kitchenette, singing, “Come help me make dinner.”


End file.
